Gone Fishing (Part 2)

Lesson 4: I like to fish, but I don’t LIKE to fish.


My father-in-law is much more experienced than I am in the realm of fishing, or any other outdoor activity for that matter. That said, we generally share the same attitude as to why this activity appeals to us. We seemed to have the most fun when we were focused more on enjoying ourselves than on actually catching “a big one.”



The same cannot be said for our comrades. The other folks who joined us on the trip, who were the kindest people on Earth, were much more devoted to the craft of fishing than I was. Our second day in camp was miserable; around forty-eight degrees or so with rain blown sideways by the howling wind. After a few hours, my father-in-law and I were done. We were cold, wet, and had no fish in our boat to show for our suffering. We concluded that nothing would be better than a hot fire, a cold beer, and shelter from the weather.



Others in our camp….not so much. They stayed out fished…and fished…and fished. And when we finally convinced them to come in from the water….they fished from the dock.



Lesson 5: The forest shall provide…

One question that most outdoor newbies like myself have to ask at some point is “Where’s the bathroom.” In most cases the answer is fairly obvious….the ground. And I get that…I mean, it’s not as if I’ve never peed on the ground before. But my question was more related to old numeral dos.



“Where do I take a dump?” I graciously asked.



“I dunno,” I was told. “Find a shady spot…Or hold it ’til we get back.”



“But what about, you know, the clean-up?”



“Leaves.”



“Leaves?”



“Leaves…just not the wrong leaves.”



“Which are the wrong leaves?”



“Oh, don’t sweat it…the wrong ones are pretty rare.”



“Oh, okay.”



“But tell me if you start to feel funny.”



I held it.



Lesson 5: Did I mentioned I don’t know Jack about Squat?

There’s nothing quite like being left out of a conversation entirely. In this instance, it wasn’t because the people I was with were particularly rude. Rather, it was because I really had nothing to contribute whatsoever. For one, fishing-talk is littered with lingo; jigs, holes, trollers…too many others to mention. I found myself, on many occasions, resolving to make flashcards and quiz myself in private so I could keep up.



There were also bits of knowledge which appeared to be common sense…At least to everyone else. At one point, we pulled up to a “hole” (a place where fish are). On the surface of the water, there were a multitude of dead insects.



Fishing Guide: “Dammit! A stinkin’ Mayfly hatch.”



Everyone else: (Groans, moans)…”Man, there goes the whole trip.”



Me (whispering): “Is that bad?”



Lesson 6: There’s no place like home.

All good things must come to an end, and so on the sixth day we packed up and headed back to civilization(relatively speaking…we were headed back to a farm in the middle of nowhere). The best part about returning home is that you can leave all of the tough parts of the trip behind you, and remember only the best bits. To my family, suburban to the last, I might as well have been returning from an undersea expedition to Atlantis. To my wife’s, I was finally starting to act the part of a proper husband…leaving my wife for a few days and returning with frozen fish.



Either way, this trip was like every other great vacation….It pushed me a little, made me a little uncomfortable, but will likely never be forgotten.